Blind Side: A Fake Dating Sports Romance: Chapter 6

“You ready for this?”

Giana was wringing her hands together in front of the stadium, doe eyes shifty as they looked around us like she was worried someone would overhear. The morning sun illuminated all the different colors in those eyes, ones I’d never noticed before — a strange blend of turquoise and gold and green.

Her fear of being seen was unwarranted. Most everyone was already inside, getting warm and trying to work out the anxiety from what this day held for all of us.

Depth Chart Day.

“You can back out,” I said.

“No.” Giana answered as quickly as I’d suggested, shaking her head and steadying her shoulders. “I’m fine, I just…” She bit her lip. “Look, I believe you when you say you’re going to help . That makes sense. I don’t know how to flirt, let alone date, or get a guy who doesn’t even know I’m alive to want me.”

She was all nerves, her hands trembling a bit as she stared down at the chipping polish on her nails.

“But me, helping ,” she said, shaking her head. “Making someone like jealous?”

She didn’t finish the thought, just bit the inside of her cheek and looked up at me like it was obvious, like she couldn’t possibly arouse jealousy in anyone.

I didn’t bother to tame the smile that curved on my lips as I let my eyes run the length of her. She’d left her hair down, the tight curls still a little damp from her shower that morning, and whatever makeup she’d done was light enough that all the freckles speckling her cheeks shone through the foundation. Her glasses were red-framed, matching the plaid skirt she wore and the knee-high stockings she’d paired with it. She was completely oblivious to how sexy her legs were, to how seeing that little skirt contrasted with the modest button up fastened all the way to her neck would make any straight man long to undo her, make any woman long to be as effortlessly alluring.

“Trust me,” I said, taking my time as my gaze crawled back up to meet hers. “Maliyah will lose her fucking mind when she sees us.”

Giana shook her head, clasping her hands together as she turned to face me. “Can we just run through it one more time?”

“I told you we needed more practice.”

She waved me off with a face that said before waiting for my cue.

“We’ll walk in together, holding hands, and get a little close. Start up the whispers,” I reminded her. “After practice, you’ll meet me in the cafeteria.”

“And I’ll make a big scene, running to you and congratulating you on making the team.” She paused. “And you’re you’ll make it?”

I gave her a flat look.

“Fine,” she waved me off. “And then… we… kiss.”

Her cheeks tinged pink.

I smirked. “Then, we kiss.” I paused, arching a brow. “You you don’t want to practice that part?”

She rolled her eyes. “You wish.”

“I’m just saying. Might ease the nerves.”

Giana ignored me, blowing out a breath and rolling her lips together before she finally stopped wringing her hands and straightened her shoulders. “Okay. Let’s do this before I pass out, or throw up, or change my mind, or all of the above.”

Her hand shot out for mine, and I smiled, intertwining my fingers with hers. As soon as I did, her breath hitched, like even just holding hands was new to her.

I leaned in and whispered in her ear.

“Fake it til you make it, Kitten.”

She flushed, looking down at the sidewalk as I tugged her toward the stadium doors. Something similar to nerves bubbled in my chest, too, as I scanned my ID badge, and then we both slipped into performance mode.

In the last two weeks, we’d been so busy we’d barely had time to sleep, let alone come up with a game plan for the little deal we made. Fall camp was brutal, a blur of daily practices that bled into weight training and meetings and watching film. Giana was caught up in her own busy season, fielding reporters and managing the media circus every day, which left only late at night before we both passed out for us to discuss what would come next.

I convinced her that Depth Chart Day would be the perfect day for our couple debut, and she agreed — but that was about it.

Other than her holding true on leaving me alone media-wise, and me holding true on getting myself together enough for the interview I knew I had waiting for me at the end of today, we hadn’t discussed much. We’d planted seeds, sure — lingering in the locker room after practice, walking together on campus, but today…

Today, everyone would know, and the game would begin.

Giana’s hand trembled a bit in mine as we pushed through the doors, the hallway that led to the locker room empty and quiet. I could hear the soft sounds of voices and the distinct clattering of pads and cleats down the hall, and I knew before we got there that everyone would be in their head today.

By the end of practice, we’d know who made the team, who was starting, who was backup, and who was gone.

Chart Day was huge. There would be coverage for it all day on every sports channel, everyone in the nation who gave a shit about college football watching and assessing. Even when I was in high school, my teammates and I would make bets and watch to see if we were right when it came to who started for our favorite teams.

We’d also dream about it being us one day with that number one spot.

Giana and I had made it all of fifteen steps when Leo Hernandez spilled out of the athletic cafeteria, a half-eaten muffin crumbling as he took a massive bite of it and hustled toward the locker room. But he stumbled, doing a double take when he saw me with Giana. He nearly crashed into the wall as he gaped over his shoulder, his eyes widening at where our hands were laced together before they glanced up at me.

But he just grinned, took another bite of his muffin, and jogged the rest of the way down without a word.

“Breathe,” I told Giana, squeezing her hand as we approached the doorway.

I’d planned the set up just right, knowing there wouldn’t be enough time for questions from the guys before we’d be called on the field. This was just a little taste to get them talking, to get the word back to Maliyah — who would be on the field with us and the rest of the cheerleading squad for the first time this season.

I hadn’t seen her since the breakup.

My stomach lurched at the realization that streak would end today. I’d have to face her while also holding my shit together on one of the most nerve-wracking days of the season. I had no doubt that I’d made the team, but that didn’t make the nerves any less — especially when I knew my ex would be there watching when Coach hung the chart.

When Giana and I made it to the arch of the open locker room door, I lifted her hand to my lips, pressing a kiss to the back of her palm.

“See you after practice,” I whispered against her skin, and I didn’t know if she faked it or if it was real, but the shy, seductive smile she threw back at me was pure art. She ducked her chin, squeezing my hand once before she peeled hers away and jetted down the hall to where the admin offices were.

I watched her go, smiling, and when I turned to head into the locker room, at least a dozen eyes were watching me.

Some had the decency to look away when I realized they were staring, pretending to re-tie their cleats or stretch or whatever they were doing before I showed up. But others couldn’t be bothered, like Zeke Collins and his girlfriend, Riley Novo, who were both watching me with mirrored expressions of concern. Holden was doing the same, and meanwhile, Kyle Robbins wore a shit-eating grin.

“Well, well,” he said, popping over to throw his arm around my shoulder. “What’s going on there, Big C? You going steady with the skirt now?”

I shrugged him off like I was annoyed, but also planted a sly smile on my face that only made him more eager to pry information out of me. Fortunately, my timing was spot on, and our assistant head coach gave a short blow of his whistle to let us know it was time to make our way out onto the field.

I was last out, letting everyone file past me as I quickly pulled on my practice jersey and cleats. Then, I jogged out with my helmet in hand.

And for the moment, Giana and Maliyah were the absolute last things on my mind.

I didn’t even glance at the cheerleaders already warming up on the sideline as I jogged out with the rest of the team, all of us gathering in the center of the field where Coach Sanders was waiting to give his pre-practice speech. I slipped into the familiar, comfortable zone that only existed on a football field for me. The smell of the turf invaded my senses, the feel of it beneath my cleats like coming home after a long day, and when I took a knee next to one of my fellow defensive backs, focused was all I felt.

Where Coach usually had to blow his whistle to get us all quiet before practice, no one was talking today. We kneeled around him, one hand on our knee and the other on our helmet as we waited.

Coach Sanders was one of the best in the nation. He’d made waves in his short tenure at NBU, turning a team around that had a consistent losing record and hadn’t seen a bowl game in decades, to being a top contender again for the first time since the 90s. The fact that he was in his early thirties only added to how impressive that was, and the truth of the matter was that I didn’t care that he was a dick most of the time, that he was severe and almost never gave out compliments.

I respected him, and I’d follow him into a burning building.

He hung his hands on his hips, brow furrowed as his eyes washed over all of us. “Most of you know the drill for today,” he said, sniffing. “I usually like to wait until after practice to even talk about it, because we have work to do, but I know it’s difficult for any of you to ignore what’s waiting at the end of it.”

He paused, glancing down at the clipboard in his hand before he thumped his fist against it.

“I didn’t take any decisions with this lightly. And I want you all to remember that nothing’s permanent. You might have a number one spot and then get taken out before our season opener next week. You might be slated number three and end up starting. So, no matter where you are, keep working hard, and keep your eye on the prize. Understood?”

“Yes, Coach,” we all responded in sync.

He nodded. “I’ll hang it outside my office after practice so you can see it first,” he said. “At five this evening, it’ll be released online for the rest of the nation to see. I expect you all to be ready for media after film meetings tonight.”

My teammates varied in how they reacted to that, some of them shifting uncomfortably, while others sported cocky smiles like they weren’t worried in the least.

Coach scanned all of us once more before his eyes locked on mine, and a subtle tilt of his chin told me it was my time to take over.

I jumped up, pulling on my helmet as I yelled, “Who are we?!”

One by one, my teammates followed, and a chorus sang back to me, “

”

“What do we want?!”

“

“How do we win?”

”

“And if all else fails?”

“

I threw my fist out, swallowed up in the next moment by teammate after teammate piling theirs on top.

“Rebels on three. One, two—”

“

”

I high-fived my brothers as I passed them, knocked helmets, smacked their asses with words of encouragement, and lifted Riley up in a spinning hug before telling her to go give ’em hell.

And though I still didn’t look where those pom poms waved on the sideline, I could feel an all-too-familiar pair of brown eyes watching me as I jogged to the end zone for our first set of drills.

Sweat dripped into my eyes by the end of practice, every muscle screaming for relief as I dragged my ass into the locker room. The heat was brutal, adding to the misery Coach Dawson, our Defensive End Coordinator, had dished out for nearly three hours. I’d run so many sprints and tackling drills I felt woozy, but I held my chin high as I marched side by side with the rest of my team.

Riley slowed down at my side, nudging me with an elbow. “You killed it out there today.”

“I could say the same for you, miss forty-two-yard field goal.” I arched a brow. “You know, the chart was already made. You didn’t have to show out like that.”

“Didn’t I, though?” She grinned.

Riley Novo was the only girl on our team — the only female playing in college football at at the present moment. She’d had to overcome a lot last season to gain the respect of the team, mine included, but it hadn’t taken her long to win us all over. Now, we protected her like she was our little sister.

Well, except Zeke — who protected her like she was his whole damn life.

On cue, Zeke swept in behind her then, tucking her under his arm as he ran his knuckles over her already-frazzled hair. She swatted our kick returner away, but then she was back in his arms, leaning up for a kiss that made my heart ache as I tore my gaze away.

Now that practice was over, I didn’t have anything to focus on, no reason to keep my eyes from continuing to drift over to where the cheerleaders were wrapping up their own practice. They all wore matching brick-red shorts and small white crop tanks, and a short scan of them was all it took for me to find Maliyah.

Long, bright blonde hair swished behind her as she laughed and did a little kick, trying to hold her foot up above her head for some sort of stunt. She fell out of it, laughing with the girls around her, those strawberry-pink lips stretched over her wide smile. Even from here I could see how her curves stretched against the clothing she wore, curves that had driven me and every other boy at our high school absolutely mad.

Her brown eyes flicked to me, and the smile she wore faded instantly.

I allowed myself one long, torturous moment of holding her gaze, and then I sniffed, turning back to Zeke and Riley and pretending like I was engaged in whatever conversation they were having.

It was almost time.

When we all finally made it into the locker room, it was a pathetic show of acting like we were pre-occupied with our lockers or duffle bags or cleats until Coach tacked the chart to the board outside his office before ducking inside it and shutting the door behind him.

It was pure chaos after that.

Player after player shoved to get to the chart, some retreating with their fists thrown up in victory, while others hung their heads or kicked their lockers. I hung back, sitting on the wooden bench in front of my locker and watching as Leo jumped up and down on his way to Holden, ringing him around the neck.

“Another year dominating offense together, QB1,” he said, crushing his head to Holden’s like they were wearing helmets. “Let’s fucking go!”

Holden grinned, letting Leo make a show before he gently shrugged him off and got back to the humble appearance he always wore.

Zeke had Riley on his shoulders within seconds after that, toting her around as they celebrated their spots being secured — which was a surprise to absolutely no one. And I didn’t even have to move from my seat on the bench before I was joined by Reggie and Dane, two guys who had played in the secondary with me last season.

“Bout’ta be beast mode this season, boys!” Reggie said, bumping fists with Dane first and then me. Dane was a safety, too, and we were always in friendly competition to see who could get the most interceptions.

“I’m coming for your record this year, Johnson,” he teased, holding his fists in front of his face and doing a little juke move like he was a boxer.

I sucked my teeth as I stood. “Fat chance, Daney Boy. You better make a comfortable home in that number two spot because you’re going to be there a while.”

The jokes and celebration continued until we all slowly meandered toward the cafeteria, where we had about an hour to eat, catch a power nap if we wanted, or do whatever else we needed to do before we reported for position meetings. This was the end of camp, the beginning of the season, and as grueling as it all was now, it was even worse once we were expected to do all this pass our classes, too.

My chest tightened when I filed into the cafeteria flanked by Leo and Zeke and saw Maliyah in the food line with the rest of the cheerleaders.

I watched her as subtly as I could until she took a seat at one of the round tables near the windows facing campus. She’d let her hair down from the ponytail it was in outside, that thick blonde hair tumbling down over her shoulders. That sight tugged at my heart the way memories of California did, the way thoughts of Christmas with both my parents did. She reminded me of home, of my family and hers, of how we all melded together to form something I thought was unbreakable.

It was surreal, seeing her here, in school, stadium, with school’s emblem stretched across her chest.

But it was hers now, too.

Sour disposition settled like an anchor in my gut. It felt like a betrayal, how she could tell me all through us being long distance how much she loved me, how much she couldn’t wait to be here , only to finally make it happen and then dump me like a bucket of dirty water.

Idly, I wondered if it was her father’s doing.

Cory Vail was a man I couldn’t help but respect. Not only had he stepped up and stepped in to help me and my mom when my dad left, but he was also one of the top lawyers in the state. He’d built everything on his own, and through that, he’d garnered a taste for the finest things.

He wanted the best — best cars, best wine, best seat at every show or game he attended.

And best prospect for his one and only daughter.

I always thought that was me.

Maybe it was, at one time. Maybe he saw my future and had faith in me going pro, in setting up his daughter with a future he found suitable. Or maybe he was just biding time, letting our young love run its course before he planted seeds in her head that she could do better.

Or maybe he had nothing to do with any of this at all.

Regardless, I knew my anxiety would never let it go. I’d toss and turn every night wondering why she so suddenly broke up with me.

But today, I needed my focus elsewhere.

It was an effort to peel my gaze from hers, and I schooled a breath, checking my watch.

Right on time, Giana walked in.

Her hair was completely dry now, those curls full of life and bouncing as she blew in through the door. She smoothed her hands over her skirt, righting her glasses as she scanned the room. When her eyes found mine, I saw the worry there, saw how her little hands curled into fists where she held her skirt, bunching the plaid fabric in their grips.

She was such a fascinating enigma to me, somehow shy and brave all at once. One moment she’d be having an anxious meltdown, and the next, she was all chin up, chest puffed, brow bent in determination like nothing could sway her.

I watched as it happened, as she sucked in a long breath, squaring her shoulders and setting her jaw. I wondered if she was giving herself a mental pep talk, but didn’t have time to debate it.

She tilted her head, just a bit, asking without words if this was it, if this was the time.

I nodded.

And then she took off in a sprint.

It was quite possibly the cutest thing I’d ever seen in my life, how her hair and skirt bounced along in sync with every step on her way to me. I watched as heads popped up table after table, my teammates and the cheerleaders and training staff alike watching as she barreled toward me.

Leo turned when he heard the slapping of her flats against the tile. “What the—”

But before he could finish that question, Giana launched herself into my arms.

I caught her in a whoosh of air and hair and a sweet scent that washed over me like a baptism, ocean breeze and sunflowers. Her arms wrapped around my neck, mine wound around her hips, and I felt the lace of her stockings as she crossed her ankles where they hooked behind me, the smooth skin of her inner thigh brushing against my waist.

She’d run at me with pure excitement and confidence, but the moment she was in my arms, her smile faded, breaths quick and shallow.

Her wide eyes locked on mine, fell to my lips, and then slowly crawled their way back up.

I squeezed where I held her hips, focusing on everything we’d rehearsed and not on the fact that she had her legs wrapped around me in a skirt — which meant other than a scrap of panties, there was nothing between us.

“You made it,” she breathed, her lips staying parted once the words left them.

When we’d practiced in her office a few days ago, we’d agreed she was supposed to say that louder, with glee and excitement.

But now, she swallowed, strengthening her grip around my neck as I wrapped my arms full around her and closed every centimeter of space between us.

“Was there even a doubt that I wouldn’t?”

I balanced her in one arm, freeing the opposite hand to trace the blush that crept along her cheeks. Then, I tilted her chin with my knuckles, watching those wide eyes of hers flutter shut.

And I kissed her.

I don’t know what I expected when this harebrained idea first came to me in that coffee shop bar across campus, but whatever it was ceased to exist the moment my lips found hers.

I was surprised by the soft firmness she met me with, tentative, but seeking. She froze at first contact, an inhale trapped in her chest, but then she slowly exhaled, pulled me into her, and deepened the kiss like we’d shared a hundred before it.

A peck was all I’d expected. Even though she agreed when I said we’d need more to be convincing, I had a feeling once this moment came, she’d allow only a quick brush of my lips against hers. Then, I’d smile and drop her to her feet, tucking her under my arm and pretending like everything was normal while everyone us freaked out. That’s what I’d imagined.

I had prepared for Giana to roll her hips, arching into me and breathing in another long kiss with a shockingly seductive moan before I had the chance to break contact. That little motion, how her ass poked out and I felt the heat of her against my lower abdomen made my cock twitch, and I groaned, squeezing her hip before I reluctantly pulled away.

I knew every pair of eyes in that cafeteria was on us, so I couldn’t say a word. I simply arched a brow to let her know that was a surprise of a kiss, but she only flushed deeper, tucking her chin and making her curls waterfall over her face as I gently set her feet back on the ground.

Just like I’d planned, I tossed my arm around her, kissing her hair before I put my hand at the small of her back and guided her to take the spot in front of me in line.

“You breathing?” I whispered.

“Barely.”

I smiled, taking the serving spoon out of her hand when we passed the mixed vegetables. “You seemed a little frazzled when you blew in here.”

“It’s been crazy all morning,” she said on a heavy sigh, reaching out for a blueberry cake donut, but then pausing and moving on.

I plucked one as I passed and put it on her tray when she wasn’t looking.

“How was it out there for you?” She nodded at a cut I had haphazardly cleaned on my forearm. “Looks like it was rough.”

“It wasn’t an easy one, but at least we weren’t in pads,” I said. “I’ll take that any day.”

We both kept our focus on filling our trays, Giana telling me about all the media lined up for tonight while I smiled and nodded and listened.

But when we had our trays full and turned to find a table, we were both frozen by the stares.

Giana swallowed, glancing up at me, and I just nodded toward the table where Holden, Zeke, and Riley were. She followed tentatively behind me, and while I ignored everyone staring, I saw her scanning the room out of my peripheral.

I took a seat next to Leo, but Giana was still standing, her little fingers clamped around the red tray in her hands.

“Actually, I think I’m going to take my lunch in the office,” she said, forcing a smile that I knew was covering the fact that she was absolutely freaking out at how many people were still watching us. “The buzz of Chart Day doesn’t stop. See you on the media line?”

I smiled, wrapping my hand gently around her forearm and guiding her down a bit so I could press a kiss to her cheek.

“Can’t wait,” I whispered.

She couldn’t hide the shy smile as she gave a small wave to the rest of the table and ducked off, weaving through the tables until she was through the doors and down the hall.

I watched her go the entire way, and the smile I wore was one of genuine surprise as I finally turned back around, grabbing my knife and fork and cutting into the pound of grilled chicken I’d piled on my plate. I had my fork halfway lifted to my mouth when my arm was elbowed harshly, and the chicken went flying down to the table.

“Bro,” Leo said, looking behind me where Giana had disappeared before he stared at me again. “What the fuck was ?”

I shrugged. “What?”

“What do you mean ?” Zeke chimed in from across the table. “Are you two… together?”

A sly smile was all I gave in answer, cutting a new bite of chicken and popping it into my mouth.

Zeke shook his head, Riley watching me cautiously from the seat beside him as Leo threw his arm around my shoulder.

“Hell fucking yeah, man. Giana is hot as fuck.”

I told myself I was still in acting mode as I went rigid at his comment, turning slowly in my seat to face him. His smile slipped, and he coughed, removing his arm from my shoulders and readjusting in his seat.

“You know. Respectfully.”

I gave him a wry smile before shaking my head and getting back to eating, and though they all waited for more details, I didn’t give a single one, and they eventually let it go and moved on to other topics of conversation.

After a few moments, I casually stretched my back, arms reaching up overhead as I twisted left and right. My gaze caught on one of the tables of cheerleaders, on a pair of warm brown eyes that had once felt like home.

Maliyah watched me with a hundred questions brewing in those irises, her jaw tight, lips almost pursed before they spread into a hesitant smile. She lifted her hand, just an inch, a small wave at me from across that crowded cafeteria.

But I simply cracked my neck and turned back around, finishing my lunch without another glance in her direction.

I wore a smug smile on my way out of that room and down the hall to the defense meeting. At least, until Holden caught up to me, pulling me to a stop.

“That was quite a show,” he commented.

“Glad you enjoyed it.”

Holden shook his head, eyes narrowing like he was onto me. “Look, I’m all for you moving on. God knows you’ve been a miserable prick since…”

He didn’t finish the sentence, probably because my glare had turned murderous daring him to.

“But… Giana is a sweet girl.”

I crossed my arms. “And what, I don’t deserve her?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“What exactly are you saying then?”

He sighed, scrubbing a hand over his chin before he looked back at me. “Just be careful, man. Okay? She’s not a rebound. She’s not the kind of girl you fool around with to make yourself feel better.”

There was something in the sincerity of his voice, in the way he looked at me with that request that rendered me without a smartass remark to combat it. I just nodded, and he did, too, before clapping me on the shoulder and heading the opposite way toward his own meeting.

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

Giana: Well, how’d I do?

I smirked, continuing my walk down the hall as I typed back.

Me: A triumphant performance, Kitten. A+

Giana: I almost passed out when I saw everyone staring at us.

Me: I would have caught you.

She sent back an eyeroll emoji, and then the little bubbles popped up that signaled she was typing more.

I couldn’t contain the laugh that bubbled out of me.

This time, it was a middle finger emoji that came through.

Another laugh barreled out of me, and I tucked my phone back in my pocket, ducking into the meeting room. It buzzed again as soon as I sat down, and I was still wearing my cocky smirk when I pulled it back out, expecting a string of cursing texts from Giana.

But it wasn’t Giana’s name on my screen.

It was Maliyah’s.

And the waiting text only said one thing.